Office Gossip
by elisheva
Summary: Lisbon learns not to listen at certain times. One shot.


**A/N: Not mine. Enjoy!**

* * *

Rigsby was debating about where to go to lunch. "Cho," he asked his team member, "any suggestions?"

"Yeah," the deadpanned, "wait until lunchtime. It's 8 o'clock in the morning."

Rigsby was unperturbed. "If I don't figure it out now I will be thinking about it all day." He looked hopefully to the red-headed member. "Grace?"

The pretty agent shrugged. "Sorry, Wayne, but I'm with Cho. It's too early. Ask me later."

The big man turned his brown puppy-dog eyes to me, where I was sitting on my couch, sipping my first cup of tea for the day and watching the team with faint amusement. "Jane?"

I pondered the question earnestly for a moment before giving my answer. "Honestly, Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt have given you carte blanche with their nonchalance. What is it you're most craving?"

He thought for a minute. "Hm, subs."

I smiled brightly at him. "See. Problem solved."

"Yes," he answered, "but from where?"

Cho and Van Pelt's groans were drowned completely out by a shriek of indignation that was in the form of my name followed by a "My office NOW," command that meant only one thing- the owner of the voice, Teresa Lisbon, was PISSED.

Three sets of eyes connected with mine, Van Pelt being the one who asked the question they all were thinking. "What did you DO, Jane?"

"I haven't the foggiest," I answered before standing to face my doom. And I truly didn't. As I walked towards Lisbon's office I did a mental review of the morning so far. The only thing I actually did, besides banter with the team, was stop at Lisbon's favorite pastry shop for her a bear claw and made her coffee. Sure, I might have had to break into her office to deliver the goods so they were waiting for her when she got in but, honestly, she should be used to that by now. And she had eaten the pastry with gusto and a grin.

I chose to just poke my head into the office as precaution. "Yes, my dear?"

She was pacing. Not a good sign. "Don't call me that," she hissed.

I watched her make another lap, wiping her hands on her pants, and decided I would probably live to see the rest of the day. I gave thumbs-up to the watching team then entered the rest of the way into Lisbon's office and closed the door. As I perched myself on my favorite corner of her messy desk I studied the petite woman's tight expression. "Well?"

She stopped and finally looked at me. "I was in the bathroom just now and heard something beyond belief."

"Well, it WAS a bathroom, Lisbon," I quipped when it didn't appear that she would go on.

She gave me a dirty look. "A couple of women were talking about me, saying I was a bitch."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "That's the problem? I get bellowed at because you're perceived as a bitch?"

When she shook her head her dark curls flew around her, settling around her angry face like a halo. "No. You got 'bellowed' at, as you called it, because YOU are the reason I'm the bitch."

I crossed my arms, frowning slightly. "I don't follow."

She dropped her head and mumbled something to the floor.

"Lisbon, I didn't catch that."

She took another breath before looking at me. "I said I'm a bitch because I'm the one you chose to start dating."

"Well," I started then actually heard her words. "Wait, what?"

"Yep," she grimaced. "Apparently we are not only dating but there is some debate over if someone took a kit to the brown couch if there would be any fluids present."

"My couch?" I repeated, horrified.

"They talked about this one," she pointed to the one in her office, "but the color and fabric—"

I interrupted. "Lisbon, how long was you in there?"

She scowled at me. "You brought me a large coffee, Jane! When I emerged they were gone but it was enough. What are we going to do?"

"Do?" I repeated.

"Yes, do,' she hissed. "Clearly we're not dating."

I shrugged. "They're just rumors, Lisbon. Those women obviously have nothing better to do. It'll pass."

"What about the meantime?"

I thought about it briefly. "I could cause a scandal by cheating on you with a certain hot red-head."

Her mouth quirked up. "Be serious."

"We could tragically break up, but then our fans would be devastated."

She lost the fight and began to laugh, calming down enough to sit behind her desk.

"I vote," I continued, "to start calling each other sweetening sick nicknames such as 'sugar', 'honey-bunch', and 'snookum's' around co-workers."

She hit me with a file folder. "Get out of my office, Jane."

Crisis over, I determined.

I was almost out of the door when I turned back to her. "Is this considered our first fight, snookum's?" I refused to duck as the folder bounced off my shoulder. "Best be careful, Lisbon. That's no longer office violence but a domestic dispute." I barely closed the door in time as the tape dispenser came flying.


End file.
